Collection of Taylor Swift Songs as Trolls Stories
by HarmonyDove13
Summary: I've noticed that a lot of older Taylor Swift songs work as stories about Poppy and Branch. Here is my collection of stories inspired by her songs (if you like Wisteria, she will be in some of these! I might add Cliff from my story "Rude" into some of them too, but I'm not sure). Rated T because I don't know what I'll write about for some future songs.
1. Enchanted

**As I mentioned in my most recent oneshot, I listen to lots of Taylor Swift music. And I've noticed that tons of her older songs all work for Poppy and Branch. This is going to be a collection of ideas I've gotten from her songs. The first is the song "Enchanted," which obviously I do not own. Also: this takes place five years before the movie. The Trolls Wikia page says Branch is 24 and Poppy is 21, so that's what I'm going with. Maybe I shouldn't trust it, but how else am I gonna come close to being in canon? Anyway, enjoy! Please read and review, but no flames!**

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Nineteen-year-old Branch looked at the invitation again and groaned. He'd been hoping to somehow see it differently this time than all the other times, but nope. It remained the same, even the part he hated the most: the part that read, scrawled in King Peppy's handwriting, _All Trolls must come to the princess' sixteenth birthday party. King's orders. No exceptions._

Even if it didn't specifically mention his name, Branch knew the message was aimed at him. No other Troll would even consider not going to a party, ever, and King Peppy knew that Branch would only listen to orders from the current monarch if not to himself. He was very self-sufficient that way, but he wasn't disrespectful. He wasn't so much of a rebel that he'd deliberately disobey the king.

Maybe the worst part was that he didn't even _know_ the princess—at least not personally. He'd heard she was a party Troll and led most of the loud songs and dances around Troll Village, which meant she was recklessly putting her people in danger, but he'd never cared enough to actually cross paths with her. Which he now regretted, since everyone else at the party would know her and be her best friend, considering Troll culture.

With a sigh, Branch turned back to the mirror. He wore a purple button-up vest instead of his usual leafy one, which hung open for convenience in crafting it, but at least this deep, rich purple was still patterned as though it was made from leaves. His shorts were a silvery-black instead of brown with green patches, but otherwise, they were the same. He didn't get any fancier than that.

The only good thing about this party was that it would be more formal than most of the Trolls' parties, so it wouldn't have any bright lights or loud noises that would attract Bergens.

That didn't make him dread it any less.

With one final look in the mirror and sigh, he tucked the invitation into his vest and set out for the ballroom pod. Surprisingly, King Peppy had made the card instead of his daughter, and Branch wondered why the heck he didn't bristle at the thought of handing it over to get into the party. Princess Poppy had started leaving party invitations at his bunker door a long time ago, and even though he always waited until after she left to claim them (didn't care to meet her with her reputation as loud party Troll), he always kept them. At first, he wasn't sure what it was that made him unable to bring himself to throw them away, but he'd soon realized that it was just so touching that she was kind enough to continue to invite him to her parties even when he didn't come. He hadn't had that kind of kindness aimed at him since . . . since . . . well, the incident.

But the king had shown him the same kindness in making this invitation, and he was more than fine with giving it away. It baffled him, to be honest.

Soon the big, multi-colored ballroom pod came into view, and he took a deep breath before flinging himself up to the branch it rested on, handing over the invitation, and walking in.

As he'd thought, it was already filled with Trolls, all in extravagant party clothing. This was already torture for him, and that was before he got himself a glass of water and a pair of twins, conjoined by the ends of their hair, came over to him.

"Oh. My gosh," said the twin on Branch's left, who was pink with a blue nose, lips, and eyes. She wore a long, sparkly strapless dress.

"Is that really _Branch_?" said the twin on Branch's right, who was the opposite of her sister in appearance—light blue with a pink nose, lips, and eyes.

"Um, yeah," Branch said, already hating all the attention. He nervously swished around the water in his cup. "Do I know you?"

"Oh, not personally," said the pink twin.

"But most everyone's heard of you," enthused the blue twin.

"Not many Trolls talk about you—" started the pink one.

"Except Poppy!" finished the blue one excitedly.

"Yeah, Poppy's been talking nonstop about you for days."

"She's so excited that you're finally coming to a party of hers!"

"She's the one who made her dad put that 'king's orders' thing on the invitation!"

"You stay right here—we'll go get her!" With that, both twins rushed off to find the princess.

Branch stared after them. Were they _kidding_? _Poppy_ had made him come, not her dad? This was another come-to-my-party scheme of hers? He was going through all of this because of her? This was ridiculous! And he couldn't even leave till it was over, even though he knew what was going on!

He took a sip of his water, because what else could he do? He was stuck in this torture for the rest of the night. If he was back in his bunker by now, imagine what he could be doing! He could be graffiti-ing another dark message on his walls, to remind himself of how important it was that they were protected from the Bergens. In fact, he would do that as soon as he was back—he would need a reminder after a night of being surrounded by these crazy party Trolls—

His thoughts stopped in their tracks when he saw the pink silhouette across the room, heading toward him.

Her red dress billowed out around her in graceful ruffles that he might've considered silly dress-up on any other Troll in the room, but on her it looked angelic. Her hair was tied up in a pretty ponytail that began to fall over itself at the very top. That meant she had long hair, certainly longer than his. Her headband emphasized her hairline, right where her bangs fell to the sides of her face, which were dotted with freckles made of glitter. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a sweet, yet spunky and slightly sassy, smile.

She drew closer and he noticed that his heart beat faster with every step she took. It wasn't anxiety, he thought, mentally running through everything that could cause a heart to do that, and it probably wasn't a heart condition, considering how healthy he kept himself. Did he have a cold? No, it was the middle of the summer, not at all flu season. And he got enough sleep, didn't he? He didn't consume all that much caffeine or sugar, so it probably wasn't that either. That left . . . no, it wasn't a crush. Crush symptoms were more than a racing heart, like sweaty palms and blushing, neither of which was happening to him.

"Oh, cupcakes!" Princess Poppy swore in amazement, grinning at him. "Branch! I can't believe you're really here! I've heard all about you, but I can't believe I've never really met you!" She laughed, the prettiest laugh Branch had ever heard. "I mean, I've met everyone else in Troll Village, but not you? What kind of a Troll princess am I?" Then the princess gave him a big hug.

He didn't return it—he never returned hugs, because a) they were a silly waste of time, and b) in Troll Village, hugs were meaningless. You could hug your worst enemy and your best friend at the same time, and it would mean nothing because Trolls hugged all the time.

Poppy pulled back a moment later, not looking at all discouraged by his not returning the hug. "So you're pretty much a loner, right? You spend all your time in that bunker of yours, and you never come to my parties! Not that it's a bad thing—I just want to know you better."

Branch raised an eyebrow, an emotion he hadn't felt in a while stirring inside of him. _Amusement._ "Well, you might have a hard time with that, little princess. As you said, I'm a loner."

"That doesn't mean you can't confide in anyone, does it?" Her words might have sounded naive or immature or both, but they were accompanied by a small smirk in his direction that he didn't miss.

"Oh, didn't you know? 'Loner' and 'secluded' go hand in hand. But since you don't have any experience in that area . . ." He shrugged, sending a provocative look of almost-pity in her direction.

She raised an eyebrow, too. "I don't, do I? But you know what? Here's a secret." Her voice dropped to a whisper and her pink lips leaned in to graze his ear. "I almost . . . _don't want to_." When she pulled back, her smirk had only grown, waiting for his response.

His smirk matched hers as he replied, "Princess thinks she's so smart, does she?" This was maybe the most childish conversation he'd ever had with anybody, both of their comebacks remarkably lame . . . but somehow, it was still tons of fun.

Poppy opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by her DJ friend's voice over the loudspeakers. "Time for our slow song of the night, folks! Pair up and _feel! The! Love!_ "

Poppy's grin lit up her features. "Oh, hey, Branch, dance with me!"

He dropped his self-satisfied expression and shook his head. "No."

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun!"

He crossed his arms and shook his head again. "No."

"Why not?"

"I don't dance."

"You also don't party, and here we are!"

"That's different." Branch waved her off. "I had to. 'King's orders,' remember? Though according to your twin friends, it's more like 'princess' orders.'"

She ignored his last sentence. Instead, she batted her eyelashes, stuck out her lips in a perfect princess pout, and looked off to the side. Lifting a hand to the side of her mouth, she singsonged, "Oh, Daddy!"

Branch rolled his eyes. "Does your precious Daddy gives you everything?" he said in a baby voice.

She shrugged delicately. Still using a spoiled princess tone, she said, "No. Only a pet cuddlepup, five hundred new dresses every week, a big bedroom, lots of shoes, and hairstyles and crowns for every occasion."

"Right. Almost nothing at all."

"Oh, and I forgot. He also makes secluded loner Trolls dance with me."

Branch hesitated, considering. He didn't want to have to face King Peppy if not dancing would actually make the princess upset. "What _kind_ of dancing?" he asked cautiously.

Princess Poppy glanced back at the other Trolls, who were still pairing up. "The waltz, I think."

Branch hesitated. For some reason, he knew the waltz, and this might be the only time in his life he could put those skills to good use. Besides, for whatever reason, he didn't want to make Poppy upset.

After a moment of mulling it over, he relented. "Okay, fine. One dance and that's all."

She lit up again. "Yay! Thank you, Branch!" After giving him a quick hug, she grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor, which was starting to fill up with other couples.

Branch blushed at the sudden thought. _Couple?_ No no no. Him and Poppy weren't a couple. He'd just met her tonight, for goodness' sake! And—oh, gosh. The waltz was a couple dance. Why had he agreed to couple dance with this girl he'd just met only minutes ago? He'd only just made the decision, but it seemed a million years away.

He realized at that moment how silly it was to be arguing with yourself about something as petty as a thought, and forced the blush off his face. It didn't matter anyway; just like the hugs in Troll Village, this dance was meaningless.

They took their position, arms around each other's shoulders and upper back. The music started, and Branch glided across the room with her for a few wonderful minutes. Then the dance ended, and they parted.

"Ooh, that was fun!" Poppy said, clapping her hands cheerfully. "I should waltz more often!"

"Well, I'm done dancing for the night," Branch said, making his way back to the snack table, just to be out of the dancers' way. Surprisingly, instead of finding someone else to dance with, Princess Poppy followed him. "You know, uh, just 'cause I'm done doesn't mean you have to be," he said, awkwardly glancing at her.

Her cheeks colored slightly. "Oh, yeah, I know. I just already know everyone out there, and not you."

"I guess that makes sense," Branch said, taking another sip of water. The two watched the next dance in comfortable silence for a moment.

Then Poppy broke the silence when she said, "Branch? Who do you love?"

He gave her a funny look. "Well, what do you mean?" He didn't show it on his face, but he really hoped this didn't get too personal for comfort, not with the incident . . .

"Oh, sorry, I guess that was weird wording. I meant, do you have a girlfriend?"

Not about his grandma, then—but still not a normal question, not that he was an expert on social cues. "No, I . . . I told you I'm a loner." He was a little taken aback. "Um, why?"

"No reason," she supplied quickly and smoothly. "Just an icebreaker."

"Alright, then, do you have a boyfriend?"

She blushed. It didn't stand out against her already-pink skin, but Branch noticed it all the same. "No."

"Whatever you say, Princess," he teased, but he believed her when she said no—and it scared him a little, how willing he was to believe that. Especially when he usually trusted no one but himself and King Peppy (but mostly himself).

"Oh, Branch, you're here!"

Speaking of the king . . .

Branch and Poppy turned around to see her father. Poppy smiled and hugged him. "Dad! You're here!"

"Did you really think I'd miss it, my princess?" He smiled down at her, and Branch knew that he was the embodiment of the word "fatherly" in that one moment.

Then the king turned his attention to Branch. "Branch, I'm so glad you came!" he said with a jolly smile. "You know, Poppy begged me to make you come to this party. She promised if I did it now, she'd never ask again."

"So I heard," he said, thinking of the twins. "Poppy's twin friends told me."

The pink princess rolled her eyes good-naturedly, still by her father's side. "Satin and Chenille are such gossips. I love them anyway, of course."

"Well, I'm glad you're here. Are you enjoying the party?" King Peppy asked Branch.

"I wouldn't say 'enjoying,'" Branch replied. _But it's not half as bad as I thought_. He clamped his lips shut before he could say that. What was wrong with him tonight? It was actually somewhat _fun_ to talk to the princess that he'd never met before in his life—not that he'd ever admit that to anyone, at least not in this lifetime. He was _Branch_ , for goodness' sake! He didn't do "fun."

"Well, I would, and I'm going to!" Princess Poppy said with a grin, then looked at her father. "Dad, Branch is definitely enjoying this party."

"Oh, good. I'm glad," King Peppy said, then yawned. "Well, I'll leave you two to it, then. I've had a long day. Being the king is tiring, you know." He kissed his daughter on her forehead. "Goodnight, my princess."

"'Night, Dad. Sleep well!" Poppy waved to the king as he retreated out the door, back to the royal pod. Then she looked back at Branch. "He's nice, isn't he?"

"Yeah, I guess," he agreed. "Um, what do we do for the next few hours of the party?"

Princess Poppy laughed. "You really don't understand parties, do you? We're s'posed to just dance, mingle, talk . . ." She trailed off, and he must have been making a face that portrayed how stupid he thought that was, because she laughed again and said, "You know what? I know you didn't want to be here, and the party doesn't end for another three hours, so I'll let you go home now. I've gotten to know you better, which was really my main goal for this party. If you want, you can go back to whatever it is you do in that underground bunker of yours."

"Wait, really?" he asked, surprised that she was letting him leave. She was the one who'd wanted him here, after all. "You'd let me leave?"

She nodded, looking nothing but sincere. "Yeah. O—only if you want to, though! I'm not forcing you to leave!"

"Thank you," he said, genuinely meaning it. He set down his cup of water. "I guess I'll be going, then."

She smiled and nodded. "Promise I'll see you around the village?"

"I don't think I'll be able to avoid you, Princess," he said, giving her a little half-smile.

"Good." Before he even knew what she was doing, she'd leaned in and was giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Branch."

"U—um, yeah. Bye, Poppy," Branch said, turning away before she could notice the bright purple blush that arose on his face. He made a beeline for the door, not giving any other Trolls the chance to notice it, either.

Once on the plush ground of Troll Village, he began to walk back to his bunker. Try as he might, he could not get the blush off of his face or the princess out of his mind.

Even once he got back to his bunker, he could barely remember what he'd wanted to do here. All he could think about was the warmth of her lips on his cheek, even if it had been chaste and short.

Branch didn't even bother to change out of his party clothes before going straight to his stash of her invitations that he'd kept. This was insane, wasn't it? He'd kept her invitations without even knowing the girl who'd sent them, and now that he did know her . . . he'd do it all again.

He got all the invitations out of their little cabinet in the wall, spreading them out across the table. There was the first one he'd received: an invitation to her fourth birthday party. He'd been seven at the time, having only lost his grandmother four years before. He'd dismissed her, but she'd followed him all the way back to his bunker (even now, she was the only Troll who knew where it was, beside him and King Peppy), asking him why he wasn't coming. He'd snapped at her in response, retreating into the secluded depths of his bunker before she could pester him any more.

It wasn't until he was back inside that he noticed—he was still holding her card.

And for some reason, he could never bear to part with it, nor any of the cards that came after.

So technically . . . yeah, he realized, bringing the memory to the front of his mind. He _had_ met the princess before now. He just barely remembered it.

But what he did remember?

He hadn't felt like _this_ at seven years old.

Try as he might, he couldn't lock away this emotion as he'd always done before, with hurt over his grandma. How was he supposed to get rid of it, then?

Branch's eyes landed on an empty notebook.

Writing might help, right?

He crossed the room and grabbed the notebook and a pencil, making room on the table to write without harming any of the invitations. He began to write, almost completely checking out as his pencil flew across the paper, lost in memories of Princess Poppy that fueled the words coming off the tip of the pencil.

It wasn't until a solid fifteen minutes later that those memories finally faded, giving way to the vibrant colors of the cards against the dull colors of his bunker. He'd filled seven pages already, he realized—and with what, he had no idea.

So Branch flipped back to the first page of the notebook and started to read.

They were _all_ poems. He was capable of writing poems? Selfish, gray, emotionless him? Who knew?

And . . . as he looked closer . . . they were all love poems.

Did he love the princess?

His heart beat faster, giving his mind a simple, one-word answer that was full of meaning: _Yes._

 _Yes._

Yes!

And even now, he knew . . .

His life would never return to the way it was before he'd had this epiphany.


	2. The Moment I Knew (Part One)

**Okay, my next story! This one is inspired by "The Moment I Knew" by Taylor Swift. I do not own the song or Trolls, of course. For those that know it, it's a sad song, but yeah, my heart's fragile. It will have a happy ending. It's also part one of a two-part story.**

 **You might need some background information on my OC's. First, I have Cherry Blossom, the warrior sister I made up for Branch. Her skin and hair are periwinkle-colored.**

 **Next, I have Willow, Poppy's cousin. She's a purple Troll (light skin, dark hair).**

 **The third and final OC in this story is Pixie. She's Poppy's twin sister. I started working on this long, involved story of how they all met her, but it was never finished. I may or may not publish it, depending on if I get a burst of inspiration or not. In any case, she's a trickster, and has some personal problems with Branch.**

 **Sorry for keeping you, but I'll give a shout-out to PinkSharky for being my first reviewer! Thank you!**

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Queen Poppy searched through her lipstick drawer. _Where is it?_ Somewhere in there, there was the special lipstick that was flavored with cinnamon-chocolate, the only kind that she ever used. The twins dumped loads of makeup on her every time she visited them, but this lipstick was Branch's favorite (he said it went well with her "natural strawberry taste") and she barely used any other makeup.

Finally, she found its sparkly pink-brown case and turned back to the mirror, applying it generously so it would last as long as possible, but not so much that it looked sloppy. This was her birthday party, after all—she wanted to look her very best.

When she capped the lipstick and set it down, she took in her reflection in the full-length mirror. She wore her hair in the same ponytail she always did, but her dress was red and it billowed out around her to the floor in ruffles. It was traditional; she'd worn it to many of her own birthday parties in the past. She was especially excited about this one, though—it was her first birthday she'd get to share with Branch as boyfriend and girlfriend.

Poppy smiled at the reflection, satisfied, and set out for the big ballroom pod, where all the formal parties happened. She honestly wasn't sure what had possessed her to throw a formal party for herself instead of a wild, crazy, glittery one, but she had and she didn't regret it.

She arrived three minutes early. The ballroom pod had two staircases, one leading down from the door on one side, and one across the room from the first one that led up to a short hallway in the back, which was filled with guest rooms, closets, storage rooms, and bathrooms. Mostly, the floor was empty, but there was a long dining table a little ways in front of the first set of stairs.

Poppy approached the table and ran her hand along the back of the chair that was for her. The table was very formally set, complete with a gold-edged tablecloth and place cards. Next to her place was Branch's, as though they were already King and Queen of Troll Village. She smiled thinking about it. Branch was squeamish and shy about being king, about having a whole kingdom to run, but the very thought of him ruling alongside her made her very, very happy. (Besides, him being shy and embarrassed was the cutest thing ever.)

Three minutes passed in the blink of an eye, and soon enough the guests started arriving. Her closest friends—the Snack Pack—showed up first, then Mandy, then Harper, then Maddy, then Aspen, then Cookie, then Dr. Moonbloom and Dr. Plum Plimsy, then Sky Toronto, then Nova Swift . . . until it seemed as though everyone was there but Branch.

She frowned. Maybe she'd missed him come in. Or maybe he'd snuck in and was trying to surprise her. That would be nice of him, she thought, imagining feeling a tap on the shoulder, turning around, and being greeted with his lips on hers. It was just the type of thing he'd do anyway, and just the type of thing she'd do for him.

But after five more minutes, it became clear that there would be no surprise. She was confident he would be there, though. After all, she still remembered when he'd said he would be at her party.

" _Well, this looks like your stop, Pops," Branch said when they approached Poppy's pod. He turned to face her as they stopped in front of the door, dropping her hand._

" _Yep, looks like it," she said. She leaned in to kiss him goodnight, then at the last second pulled back, lighting up. "Oh, hey, I completely forgot!" The young queen reached up into her hair and pulled out an invitation. "My birthday party's next week! It's going to be a formal one instead of a wild Troll-y one, so it'll be 'creative black tie' dress code at the ballroom pod."_

 _Branch took the invitation and opened his mouth to ask what that meant—_

 _Poppy handed him a scrapbook. "For all your party terminology needs."_

 _He looked down at it and laughed, then stuck it in his hair along with the invitation. "You know me too well. Thanks, Pops."_

" _No problem." Suddenly she faltered, unsure of herself. "You . . . you will come to the party, right?"_

 _His eyes and smile gained the hollow sadness that they always did when he was haunted by his past. Then he seemed to shake it off and looked right into her eyes, lifting a hand to caress her cheek. "Poppy, I wouldn't miss it for the world."_

 _They connected lips passionately, sealing his promise with a kiss._

Poppy could still hear his words perfectly, echoing in her mind. " _Poppy, I wouldn't miss it for the world."_

So he, under no uncertain terms, would be at her party.

Right?

Satin and Chenille approached her and she pushed down her doubts, replacing her worried, uncertain expression with a smile. "You having fun yet, Poppy?" Satin asked casually, a cup of punch in her hand.

"It's my birthday party—do you think I wouldn't be?" she asked. Because of her smile and tone of voice, her friends didn't notice the way she hadn't answered their question, not really. The truth was, she didn't know if she was having fun, if she _could_ be having fun when she was worrying about Branch.

Chenille looked around. "Hey, where's Branch? _Ooh_ , is he being a gentleman and getting you something to drink? _Huh_? _Huh_?"

Poppy felt her smile waver but did her best to hold it in place. The twins loved to tease her, which she usually didn't mind, but she didn't need it right now. "Actually, no," she said, making sure to keep her voice good-natured. "He's, um, he's not here yet. But I'm sure he'll be here soon!" She inwardly winced at how quickly the last sentence had come out, how artificial it sounded.

Satin and Chenille exchanged a worried glance. "Yeah, Poppy," they said, sounding suddenly extra-careful with their words.

Poppy bristled at that, but shook it off. _Whatever_. The twins might not, but she would have faith that Branch would be here. "Have you seen him?" She strained her head to look over the sea of Troll hair and find his rich blue shades, but all she saw were happy Trolls, talking and laughing with their friends.

"Um, no, we haven't. Sorry, Poppy," Satin said.

"We'll let you know if we do, though, promise," Chenille said.

At any other time, she might've playfully insisted they hair swear on that, but aside from the fact that their conjoined hair couldn't do that, she didn't feel up to it under the circumstances. "Okay. Thanks, guys." With that, she went off to go look for the blue Troll she'd come to know and love.

But hours passed in the blink of an eye, and she still hadn't found him.

Meaning only one thing.

He hadn't come to the party.

A sinking feeling started in the pit of her stomach, one that made her want to cry and throw up all at the same time. She no longer felt like being around anyone at all if she couldn't be with Branch, so she made her way to the back staircase and started up it, not looking back so she wouldn't know how many Trolls were watching her almost break down.

Once in the hallway, she headed for the girls' bathroom, then realized there was a small group of Trolls following her. She glanced over her shoulder. Harper, Satin, Chenille, Suki, and Smidge were all chasing after her—clearly, they'd noticed something wrong.

Poppy didn't stop and pushed the door to the bathroom open. She stood in front of the sink and mirror and splashed water on her face, trying to somehow stop the horrible feeling all throughout her body. A moment later, her friends walked in and all took places behind her.

"We're so sorry, Poppy," Satin said softly.

"Branch never came, did he?" Chenille asked, equally as gently.

That was all it took. The first few tears trickled down her cheeks, and in trying to hold them back, more appeared. She broke into sobs, so shaky and reluctant—she shouldn't be crying, shouldn't be sad at her own party—and sank to the floor, her five friends all taking spots around her, rubbing her back (save for Smidge, who was afraid she might break Poppy's spine if she tried).

"You don't deserve this, Poppy," Harper said from Poppy's right, shaking her head sadly as she looked down at her friend.

"No one does," said DJ, on the queen's left.

The five Trolls let Poppy cry for a minute. "H-how could he do this?" she said through her sobs. "H-he promised he'd b-be here!"

"I don't know," Satin said.

"And we're so sorry," Chenille said.

Poppy sobbed for another minute, then Smidge said, "You know what? Are we going to sit around on some bathroom floor and cry like a baby for our big, strong boyfriend to come save us, or are we going to get up and prove that we are indestructible and nothing can hurt us?" She was yelling, giving one of her hardcore exercise pep talks.

The other four Trolls all made _Yikes!_ faces at her and Harper said to Poppy, "Don't listen to her, Poppy. Crying isn't a weakness. You need to let all your sadness out."

Poppy heaved another sob, then wiped away her tears and said, "N-no, no, Smidge is r-right. I need to go out there and finish the par-party. I c-can't disappoint all those Trolls. Later I'll go home and cheer myself up, but right now I'm in the middle of a party, and I need to finish it."

Harper, the twins, and Suki exchanged hesitant looks, but then Suki said, "Well, I guess so . . ."

"Good," she said, still sad, but determined now, too. She stood up and washed the tear stains off her face. She pushed away any remaining instinct to start sobbing again.

And so, she submerged herself into the party again. She still felt horrible, but only another couple of hours, and then she'd be out of there. _Just make it until then_ , she forced herself. Those five words became her mantra in a matter of ten minutes.

She'd been doing a good job of taking deep breaths and avoiding conversation until a familiar periwinkle Troll in a long sunset-colored dress came bounding up to her. Cherry Blossom, Branch's sister, hadn't been there for the whole party either, she suddenly realized. And they were related . . . she felt a spark of hope inside of her. Could it be that Branch was about to appear, too?

Before she could look or ask, Cherry enveloped her in a big hug. "Poppy, it's so nice to see you! How's your party going? Sorry I'm so late—I thought I'd try a new dressmaker, who turned out to be a Bergen, so that took forever. Lucky Branch—he stuck with Satin and Chenille. I bet he was _early_." She rolled her eyes, but didn't pause long enough to allow anyone else to speak. "Speaking of which, I haven't seen Branch in a while. How's he doing?"

Poppy's heart sank again, the horrible feeling coming back tenfold and uncontrollable. Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked frantically in hopes to make them go away, but only succeeded in making them trail down her face. Through the blurriness, she saw a female Troll appear at Cherry's side, saw Cherry's expression melt to solemness as the Troll whispered to her, heard the hush that fell over the crowd as soon as Cherry said what she did.

"I-I'm sorry, just give me a minute—" Poppy managed to get out, before turning and running to a spot on one side of the first staircase, one where she was protected by the wall the stairs created from prying eyes. She curled into a ball and cried into her knees. If Branch had only been there, she'd have been ecstatic. It would've been the best birthday ever. His presence was the only present she needed.

But he wasn't there.

Poppy glanced up at the clock. Another hour and a half. The Trolls were taking their seats at the dining table already, so a lot of that time would be eaten up by the birthday cake.

 _Just a little longer._

 _I can do this._

With a deep, shaky breath, she collected herself as best she could and stood up, wiping away her tears again. She sat down at her designated spot, but tears welled up every time she glanced at Branch's spot and she had to press her lips together to keep the sobs from escaping. "C-can someone move his spot, please?" she asked feebly, unable to present herself any other way.

Half the Trolls at the table jumped up to meet her request, seeing how sad she was. They all helped take away Branch's chair, place card, silverware . . . until it was like he'd never existed at all.

If only. Then she wouldn't be using everything in her to not cry.

More shaky deep breaths. If not for Branch's absence, she might've given a short opening speech, but she couldn't find it in her to do that anymore. Instead, she propped her elbows on the table and propped her forehead on her hands, looking down at the table. "U-um, you guys can cut the cake, if you want."

She was glad that with her head down, she couldn't see all the worried glances the Trolls were probably exchanging. She knew they were all thinking the same thing: Poppy _always_ cut the cake. _Always._

Then she heard a chair scrape the floor as someone stood up. Her cousin Willow's voice said, the gentlest she'd ever heard it, "I'll do it, Poppy."

Poppy nodded without looking up. "Th-thanks, Willow."

"No problem," Willow said softly. A moment later, Poppy was staring down at a plate of cake rather than the bare tablecloth she'd been looking at when Willow had taken her plate.

The young queen waited another few minutes while her cousin served everyone else, and she couldn't help but think that if Branch had been there, together they could've done it in a fourth of the time.

Finally, she heard Willow sit back down and scoot in her chair. "Poppy?" said the Troll sitting next to her, across the empty space that used to be Branch. She recognized the voice immediately as Cherry Blossom, and felt Cherry's hand on her back. "Do you want to do candles, or should we just sing now?"

"Just sing," she said bitterly. She could've said "I don't care" but what she really didn't care for was the candles right now. They would drag out the party and besides, they were so dumb and cheesy.

As she'd learned in the past few hours, wishes didn't come true.

Poppy suddenly noticed the course of her thoughts—the only time they'd spiraled so deeply downward like this was when she'd been about to turn gray, back in Bergen Town.

She checked her arm. Still pink.

She knew she had to cheer up soon, or she might turn gray permanently. After all, the only reason she'd gotten back her colors that time was because of Branch, and it seemed like he might not even want to cheer her up this time.

There was no way Poppy was going to risk losing her colors.

And the first step? Getting out of there.

The Trolls had just opened their mouths to sing when she stood up, pushing back from the table. "A-actually," she said, "may I b-be excused?" Before they could say anything, she turned and fled the party scene, running all the way back to her pod with tears streaming down her face.

The pink queen ran into her pod, slammed the door behind her, and flopped down onto her bed. This time, she didn't even try to hold back the sobs that escaped from her lips, the same lips that should've been on Branch's hours ago.

Poppy wasn't sure how much time passed, but finally she stopped crying and rested her head on her tear-stained pillow for a while. She was in a sad slump, but she had to snap out of it before her pink colors faded.

So she got up, washed her face, redid her hair, and headed to the kitchen with her scrapbook, which was right near the front door. She pulled up a chair and sat down, scrapbooking what had happened.

Poppy was just in the middle of her scrapbook-self breaking down in tears (she kept cheerful music playing in the background so it wouldn't happen again) when her flower phone rang. She'd entirely forgotten it was right next to her when she chose this spot.

The young queen paused a moment, deciding whether to answer. She had no idea wh0 was calling. If it was going to be one of her friends, apologizing yet again for what had happened, well . . . she didn't want their pity. But if it was Branch . . .

She couldn't turn that down.

So she picked up the phone, holding one side to her ear and the other to her mouth. Keeping her tone completely even and indifferent, she asked coolly, "Hello?"

"Poppy!"

It was Branch's voice.

"Poppy, I am so sorry! I can't believe I missed your party! I swear I meant to be there, but there was this problem with pod security, and I had to check it out, and I lost track of time—but Poppy, I'm so so so sorry!"

He sounded sincere enough. But she was still angry at him for completely ruining her birthday. "I'm sorry, too. Sorry I trusted you enough to let you into my life in the first place," she said sourly, then started to put down the phone.

Apparently, he could tell, because he started yelling. "No! Wait! Poppy! Hold on! Please, just one second! Poppy!"

She hesitated right before putting it down. He was clearly trying, clearly sorry. So she picked the phone up again and held it up. "I'm listening?" she said impatiently.

"Poppy!" he said, one final time. "I promise I'm really, really, really sorry! I'll do _anything_ to make it up to you— _anything_ you ask! In fact, what am I even _doing_ still on the phone with you? I should be out there, serenading you in a tuxedo, holding a cupcake and birthday card." He paused. "Only problem is, it's not raining."

Suddenly thunder rumbled outside and a sheet of water fell from the sky.

"Oh," Branch said on the other end, sounding pleasantly surprised. "Well, that's convenient. Hold on, Poppy, I'll be over there in a minute."

Poppy was touched by his willingness, but she could hear him putting down the phone. "Wait! Branch!"

There was a little bit of rustling on the other end, then Branch said, "Yeah?"

"Branch, don't do any of that stuff."

"What do you mean? What do you want me to do to make it up to you, then?"

"Just . . . come over."

"I think I was already in the process of doing that," he teased.

"No, I don't want you to do anything fancy. Don't serenade me, don't dress up, don't bring me anything . . . just _be_ _here_."

He hesitated. "Are you sure? That doesn't seem like it'll make up for what I did to you . . ."

Poppy smiled. "How 'bout this: you come over with nothing but the clothes on your back—and they'd _better_ not be anything fancy—and then once you're here, we'll talk getting even."

"Well . . . alright," Branch said reluctantly. "Are you sure you don't want me to at least bring you a card, though?"

"Nope. Just you."

"A cupcake?"

"No. You."

"You don't want me to serenade you?"

"Branch, just get over here!"

"Okay, okay, okay. I'll be right over."

"See you soon." With that, Poppy hung up.

The Troll queen took a deep breath, but this one was different from the ones she'd been taking all day. This one was her trying to get all the emotions of the day—worry, uncertainty, anger, misery, dread, and hope - out of her system, so she could just be _Poppy_ when he showed up.

Only a second later, her doorbell rang, and she rushed around the counter to open it. There stood Branch, the one figure she'd needed all day, finally here in front of her. Suddenly, thoughts of clearing her emotions seemed silly. She hugged him tight without even knowing what she was doing. " _Branch."_

"Poppy," he said, taking a small step inside and shutting the door behind himself. As soon as this task was done, he hugged her back. "I'm so sorry."

She pulled back, tears glistening in her eyes. "Y-you weren't there . . ." Her pain was evident in her voice.

Branch kissed her passionately, and she could feel all the guilt and remorse that he put into that one kiss. When they pulled back, tears shined in his eyes too. "You . . . you wore the lipstick . . . for me . . ." A single tear trickled down his face.

Poppy nodded, too choked up to say anything, feeling the salt water on her face again too. She'd never cried so much in one day before.

He reached up and wiped a tear off her face, and she leaned into his caress. "Please Poppy, tell me what I can do to make it up to you. I know nothing will ever undo what I did, but please . . . let me try."

Poppy nodded again and led him to sit down at her dining table. They sat next to each other, turning their chairs so they were facing one another. "Br-branch," she said, wiping away her tears. "In order to make up for what you did to me, will you move out of your bunker and into a pod? Before you ask, not my pod, but _a_ pod."

Branch closed his mouth. She had the uncanny ability to predict every question he was going to ask. Without a moment of hesitation, he nodded, blinking away the tears that threatened to surface at the pain he'd caused her. "Absolutely."

"Will you spend time alone with Creek, Cloud Guy, Sky Toronto, and Pixie?"

This time he did hesitate, but the idea of spending time with his least favorite Trolls (or clouds) couldn't come close to what he'd done to Poppy by skipping her party. So again, he nodded. "Of course."

He could see the smile on the verge of surfacing, but she remained firm as she asked, "Will you hairachute off a cliff for me?"

They both knew the idea of hairachuting made him very uncomfortable, but he meant it when he'd said he'd do anything to make up for skipping her party. So he swallowed and said, "I'll do it."

She wasn't forcing back the smile anymore. He watched it spread across her face before she kissed him again. It wasn't chaste but it wasn't long, because then she pulled back, still smiling, and grabbed his wrist to pull him into the kitchen.

"Um, when am I gonna do that stuff? Soon? Or—"

Poppy stopped and turned around, cutting him off. "Oh, no, you're not actually going to do that stuff, although I might have us spend some time with Dad and Pixie soon—like the Swag Stag Hunt, remember, only with Pixie instead of our friends."

"Then why'd you ask me to do it?" Branch asked as she dropped his wrist.

"I needed to make sure you'd _really_ do anything," she explained, closing her scrapbook and putting her scrapbooking tools away. Then she hopped up and sat on the counter, swinging her legs. "And lucky me, you will!"

"Wait, so then what _can_ I do to make it up to you, really?" Branch asked. He was overcome with guilt right now, and the only way to ease it was to make it up to her.

"I just want to spend my birthday with you," she said sincerely. "I want to make cupcakes together—the fun way, where we put on music in the background and sing and dance and kiss and make a big mess."

"And that'll make up for it? As best it can? I don't need to do something bigger?"

She smiled. "No, you don't. Small things can make me happy too, you know."

"Okay. Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you, though, and it's done."

"You're so sweet. But this is enough. I'm gonna go change into something more"—she gestured to her dress—" _comfortable_ , and then we can get started. You wait here." With that, she retreated into her bedroom and closed the door.

Branch allowed himself to smile. He was glad this had gone so well. With what he'd done, if she had completely shut him out, he wouldn't have been able to blame her. But she hadn't, and she was giving him a second chance, even if he didn't have to move out of his bunker or spend time with _them_ or hairachute off a cliff as he'd initially thought.

Poppy returned a moment later, wearing a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants and a plain headband without any flowers on it. She'd let her hair loose, too. It was the most relaxed-looking he'd ever seen her.

"My rap-battle outfit," she explained with a laugh when she saw his face. "I don't think you've ever been to one. We battle to see who can give better compliments in rap form. It's pretty fun, and also frustrating." She furrowed her eyebrows. "Kinda like arguing with you, actually."

"Fun and frustrating? Sounds like it," he teased. "Alright, Pops, what flavor do you want your cupcakes to be?"

"Well, the cake at the party was vanilla and I cried all over it, so I'm never eating vanilla again." She continued before Branch had the chance to apologize again. "I don't want chocolate, either—too simple. I want something big and fun."

"How about . . ." Branch paused for a moment, thinking, then his eyes landed on Poppy's lips, dried lipstick staining them. "How about we do strawberry cake, with cinnamon-chocolate frosting, in honor of you and your lipstick?" It was silly to bake a cake based on your girlfriend's lipstick, but right now only one thing mattered, and that was cheering Poppy up. Also, he was really curious to see what her kisses would taste like in cake form, probably more curious than was sane.

Poppy laughed. "That's a great idea. Maybe for your birthday, I'll bake you a blueberry-mint cake. Come on, let's get started! This'll be fun!"

And indeed, it went exactly as she'd described: music in the background, singing along, dancing along, talking, chaste and stolen kisses, and definitely making a big mess. Batter splattered on their clothes ("Great, I guess I'll go wash out my vest and have Satin and Chenille spy on shirtless me again," groaned Branch), in their hair ("Why did you take out your ponytail, Poppy?"), and even on their faces ("It's more fun when you make a mess!" Poppy insisted cheerfully).

When the cupcakes were in the oven, each Troll held a bowl of frosting, which they stirred with wooden spoons. Poppy sat on the counter and Branch stood on the floor facing her, talking cheerfully.

"You know, Branch . . ." Suddenly the young queen trailed off, looking a bit more nervous than she'd been before, and her stirring motion slowed. "Um, there's this big party next week. It's an end-of-decade party for our generation, so anyone ages eighteen to twenty-seven is allowed in. It's a tradition—have you heard of it?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"So anyway, we set up in the middle of the village—we put a fence around a rectangular piece of land, usually one that's big enough but not huge, and at one of the shorter ends, there's a stage with no backstage area. On either side of the stage are the openings to the fence, but, yeah, you don't care. Anyway, we all attend and celebrate the end of the decade and party! Onstage, they call out everyone in the village's names who are eighteen to twenty-seven, and every Troll gets an award for all that they've accomplished in the decade. You only get one chance in your life to go to this party, so everyone really looks forward to it."

"Then why do you look so worried? I'll be at this party, I promise. In fact, I'll stake my own life on it if it'll make you happy."

"Oh, no, that's not the problem, although I love your dedication. It's just that . . . it's a tradition for the king and queen to go to the party _together_ , and . . ." She trailed off. He got the point.

"Wait, Poppy," he said, head spinning. "I told you I'd do anything to make up for missing your party, and I still will, but don't you think getting married in a week is a bit _extreme_?"

Her eyes widened. "No, we're not getting _married_! That _is_ extreme! I just was wondering if you'd attend the party as an _honorary_ king."

"What would that entail?"

"You come with me, as my date, and you wear some kingly stuff. That's about it."

"Define 'kingly stuff.' Will I have to wear those fancy robes I've seen your dad wearing before?"

"Not if you don't want to. I like it better when you wear your vest and shorts, anyway. I really just want you to wear the crown."

"Alright, I'll go as the king," he agreed reluctantly, but only because a) Poppy was making her irresistible puppy eyes at him and b) this was exactly the kind of big thing he'd wanted to do to make up for hurting her today.

She hopped off the counter, lighting up. "Yay! Thank you so much, Branch!" She gave him a very enthusiastic hug, then the oven timer beeped, letting her know the cupcakes were done. She rushed over and pulled them out.

Frosting the cupcakes was also a very messy experience. They each frosted half of the cupcakes with their own frosting they'd made themselves, then Poppy had an idea. She suggested that they should each choose their prettiest cupcake and then swap, so they could taste the other person's frosting.

Branch didn't think it was a particularly bad idea, and even if he did, he was in no position to argue, so he agreed. They swapped cupcakes, then sat down at Poppy's dining table again and ate the cupcakes.

After the first few bites, Poppy set down her cupcake and swallowed the crumbs before asking, "Is this really what I taste like?"

"Umm . . ." His eyes drifted up to the ceiling as he pretended to be thinking, then landed on her again. "No. You're more delicious."

"Why thank you, kind sir."

"Did you seriously just call me 'kind sir'?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Whoever said I couldn't?"

"Nobody. Why _did_ nobody say you couldn't?"

Poppy laughed, then remembered something he'd said earlier. "Do the twins really spy on shirtless you sometimes?"

"Why? Are you jealous?" he asked, pouncing on her too quickly.

"Oh, you're one to talk. You were jealous of _Cloud_ _Guy_ , for goodness' sake!"

"You never said you weren't!"

"And you never answered my question. There a reason for that?"

He sighed. "Fine. Yeah, they do. Only not 'sometimes.' _All_ the time. If I ever go and wash one of my vests, they always manage to be there watching me from the bushes or whatever. It freaks me out, to be honest."

She laughed again. "I should tell them to stop, just to see how that conversation would go. I bet Satin would say something like, 'Poppy, it's not our fault Branch is super-hot!' And then Chenille would say, 'Yeah, even Nova Swift loves his muscles!' And—"

" _Wait_ ," Branch said, pulling his vest tighter over his chest. "Are you making this up—in which case, please stop, 'cause it's kind of creepy to hear you calling me hot and complimenting my muscles—or does Nova Swift _actually_ think that?"

"Well, it's a theory I have, so it might not be true, but I'm pretty sure she thinks that."

"A theory? Why do you even have that theory?"

"Because—remember that time when Satin and Chenille had you be a model for their fashion show? Anyway, at first they couldn't find a model, and they were so upset they'd failed Nova, when she just dramatically appeared out of nowhere like she does. Um, you happened to be washing your vest nearby when this happened, and she told them that their clothes reflect their relationship—full of turmoil—and so they need a model that reflects that, and she pointed to shirtless you . . . and they saw what she wanted them to see. You have been viewed as 'savage' and 'raw' and 'beautiful' by them ever since then. Congratulations, soldier," she said, and leaned forward to pat his shoulder.

He laughed, then groaned. "Ugh! Why did I have to be outside that day! Why do I have to be outside every day, actually? I can't wash my vest inside because then the water will splash everywhere and my floors are made of dirt. Not a good combination."

"Yeah, then your perfectly organized bunker would be messed up. And that can't happen, can it?" Poppy teased.

"No, absolutely not. And I'm avoiding Nova Swift from now on."

"I support that decision. Heeeyyyy . . ." She trailed off, gazing at him thoughtfully. "Can I have your vest?"

"I don't know, Poppy. I don't really feel like taking it off ever again."

"C'mon, please?"

"Alright, fine." He took off his vest and handed it to her. "Why?"

She inspected it, flipping it around in her hands. "Did you make this?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Could you make more?"

"Yeah . . . for who?"

"For you."

"Done, but why would it be for me? Why are you concerned about that?"

"I'm just wondering . . ." She held it up, turning it around. "Could we make a cape out of this? You could wear it to the party next week, and then you'd still look like Branch, but also like a king. That would be, like, my favorite thing ever."

"You say that about everything," he pointed out.

"Yeah, 'cause I mean it about everything! Could we?"

"Probably. Um, is there anything else you want to do today?"

She considered. "No, not really. Here—" She hopped up, ran into the kitchen, then emerged a moment later with a containerful of cupcakes. "Take these."

He stood up and took the container from her. "Thanks, Poppy. Unless you want me to stay longer? It's your call."

Poppy hesitated, then shook her head. "I won't keep you. Not that I want you to leave, it's just . . . you've been here all day, and I don't have any ideas for anything else to do."

Branch nodded. "Yeah, I understand. Wait—" He looked past her to the kitchen. "Do you want me to clean up your kitchen?"

"You don't have—Branch, you know that missing a party doesn't make you my personal servant, right?"

"Not forever, just for a couple of weeks . . ."

"I'll take that as a no. I can clean the kitchen myself. You cheered me up and I feel better now, okay? You don't have to do my chores. In fact, please _don't_ do my chores."

He hesitated. "Alright. Can I have my vest back, then?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot I had it. Here." She tossed it to him.

He caught it, then set down the container of cupcakes to put it on. Leaning forward, he pulled her into his grasp and kissed her. "Goodnight, Poppy. I'll see you tomorrow." (Then he reclaimed the cupcakes.)

"'Night, Branch. I love you."

"I love you, too, Poppy." With that, he turned and left her pod.

Poppy went into the kitchen and watched him leave out the window. The rain was starting to clear up, and since it was winter, the sun had already set. She watched him until he was out of sight, then looked around at the kitchen she had to clean.

She almost regretted not taking Branch's offer, but she had to let him know that she didn't want him as a slave, she wanted him as a king—meaning _equal_ power. She was not a tyrant—and besides, if he lost his will to argue with her, then who would?

So she started cleaning, thinking only about the party next week and how much fun it would be. She would want to remember it for the rest of her life.

And Branch would be there to enjoy it with her.

* * *

 **That's the end of part one! I should have part two up in a few hours! Also, apologies for the bad ending. I'm not very good at endings, which is why I haven't updated my Rude story recently. Sorry, I'm working out the last chapter! However, the next part of this story is already finished . . . I just have to edit. Please review, but no flames! Thanks! :)**


	3. Long Live (Part Two)

**Part two! Please read and review (no flames). And sorry for the bolded print in the last chapter. I don't know what happened. Anyway, this is fluffier than the past two chapters, and based on "Long Live" by Taylor Swift. I don't own Trolls or the song. Thanks! :)**

Poppy gazed over at Branch. She was walking along with him, holding his hand in the darkness as they made their way to the party scene. She'd waited her whole life to experience this special, once-in-a-lifetime party, but right now all she could think about was the leafy green crown resting on his blue locks.

She'd waited so long to see it on him like that, and even if it was only for one night, it made her inexplicably happy. She wanted to mess with it, to ruffle his hair and pick up the crown and put it back on, over and over and over again.

Still, she restrained. She knew he was shy about being king. He didn't see himself as a leader and it made him uncomfortable when she brought it up. So she was doing her best to ignore it, in hopes that he would forget about it and have fun.

They soon saw the fence and the back of the stage, and Poppy pulled him along. On either side of the stage, there were gates for them to go through. Because they were in the back, the gate that Poppy headed for was on the right side of the stage.

She pulled the gate open and allowed Branch to walk in before her, but he refused to drop her hand and pulled her with him. As a matter of fact, she could feel his hands slightly shaking with anxiety.

Poppy squeezed his hand and looked around. An elderly Troll was onstage, reading off the names of everyone there and all their accomplishments. He was almost to the end of the list, she could tell, so soon enough she and Branch would take the stage.

But for now . . .

"Branch . . . _remember_ this," she told him, taking it in: all the cheering Trolls in the crowd in front of them, the air cool but surprisingly pleasant for winter, even the way Branch's hand shook in hers. "Look at them," she said, gesturing to all the Trolls attending. "They're so happy . . . it's like they're _all_ kings and queens for a night." It was a reference to the crown he wore on his head and the leafy cape over his shoulders that was an altered version of his vest, just to see how he'd react.

At first, his pulse—which she could feel from his wrist—sped up and his eyes widened a little, fear flashing in them . . . then he seemed to calm down when he realized she wasn't talking specifically about them. He nodded. "Yeah."

She frowned a little. She knew he was stressed right now, but she couldn't help not wanting him to mindlessly agree with her. There was a downside to being a popular, stubborn, determined queen: she was surrounded by yes-Trolls. That was one of the reasons why she loved Branch—he was never afraid to argue with her.

But he was stressed, and because she loved him she would forgive him. He would have to get over his anxiety sooner or later, and she would be by his side every second of the way.

" . . . and give it up for Queen Poppy, and—" The Troll onstage looked to her and glanced at Branch before meeting her eyes again, a question in them. She gave a subtle shake of her head. Branch didn't need to be referred to as the king in front of everyone, not this early into the night.

"—and Branch!" the Troll finished, stepping off the stage to leave. He passed Poppy and Branch, giving them a respectful nod.

Poppy grinned and pulled Branch up onstage with her as the applause swelled. Then she dropped his hand and threw her arms up in the air. "Who's excited to be here tonight?!" she yelled to the crowd.

"US!" they yelled back enthusiastically.

"And who is this party for?!"

"US!"

"And who are all those kingdom lights shining for?!"

" _US!"_

"WOO-HOO!" she screamed at them, which they instantly returned. "THIS PARTY IS FOR US! WE ARE ALL THE KINGS AND THE QUEENS TONIGHT! REMEMBER THIS!"

"REMEMBER THIS!" they echoed.

"WE DID DO MANY FUN THINGS THIS DECADE, AND OUR WHOLE LIVES! AND IT WAS SO! MUCH! FUN! LET'S MAKE A LITTLE NOISE!"

The crowd applauded wildly.

"NOW ARE WE GONNA GET THIS PARTY STARTED OR WHAT?!"

"GET THIS PARTY STARTED!" they yelled back.

"LET'S GO!" Poppy screamed. She signaled the DJ, an elderly Troll volunteer (so Suki didn't have to miss the celebration DJ-ing), and got all the lights going.

Poppy walked offstage as the Trolls mulled around: some danced, some mingled, some played games, some sat in a circle and looked at pictures of the last decade. She grabbed Branch's hand again.

"You're really good at that, Poppy," he complimented her.

"Good at what?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Rallying the crowd," he clarified. "You got them really excited."

"Oh, that. Yeah, I've been doing that my whole life. Dad says I threw my first party when I was one. I don't remember, of course, but . . ."

"One?" he asked doubtfully, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah. One."

"Seriously?"

She nodded, looking up at him sincerely. "Seriously. Oh, hey, let's go join the picture-circle-thingy!" She pulled him along to join the circle of Trolls who were passing pictures around.

They sat down in a gap between two Trolls, and Branch was handed a stack of photos. He looked through them and then handed them to Poppy.

The pictures were of her and her friends posing in random places: eating cupcakes, planting new trees, playing dress-up, some of Creek and her, some of Branch and her, some of Creek and her and the Snack Pack, some of Branch and her and the Snack Pack, some of Mandy and Mandy's boyfriend (she would never admit out loud that she didn't know his name). Poppy laughed at some of the pictures, then passed them to the next Troll.

The young queen leaned over and rested her arm on Branch's shoulder, giving in to the urge to play with the crown. "I love you wearing this," she said, fidgeting with it and putting it back on top of his soft blue hair. "It suits you so well."

He blushed, gently swatting her hand away. "I only agreed 'cause I missed your party," he grumbled, but he was smiling, so she doubted that was true.

She grinned, scooting even closer to him. "Liar," she whispered in his ear teasingly. "You just wanted me to touch your hair, and you knew that if you wore it, I'd want to touch your hair."

"Okay, so maybe there are other reasons for my decisions, but that one really isn't true. I figured that if I wore it, you'd be happy with me and leave the crown—and my hair—alone."

"Who says I can't be happy with you _and_ want to play with your hair and crown?" Poppy said, smiling. She was still resting her arm on his shoulder.

"You can; I just assumed you wouldn't."

"Never assume anything about me, Branch. I AM UNPREDICTABLE!"

He pulled away and rubbed his ear. "Yeah, I noticed. You're also really loud."

"NO REGRETS!"

"Oh, that's nice of you."

"Aren't I just an angel?"

Branch sighed, but Poppy had already moved on. She was looking up at the stage with wide eyes, so he turned his attention there too.

"Excuse me, everyone," said an elderly she-Troll onstage, and a hush fell over the crowd. "Now is the time when we will award the Trolls who have accomplished an unusual amount this decade. When I call your name, please come onstage to receive your award." She cleared her throat. "First—Fuzzbert the fuzzling!"

Fuzzbert made his way to the stage, grunting the whole way. Once there, he received a trophy and a round of applause, then stepped back to make room for the next Troll.

"Second, we have DJ Suki!" announced the elderly Troll onstage. Another round of applause went up as the DJ made her way to the stage and received her trophy, then stood by Fuzzbert.

"Third, Smidge!" Smidge gave a savage yell of gratitude as she got her trophy and joined her two friends.

"Fourth, Guy Diamond!" Guy Diamond walked confidently, like a model, up to the stage to receive his prize, then went and stood next to Suki.

"Fifth, the twins, Satin and Chenille!"

"I had to make sure they were called at the same time, so one wouldn't think she was better than the other," Poppy whispered to Branch, who nodded.

"Sixth, Cooper!" Cooper laughed as he made his way through the crowd to get his award and line up beside his friends.

"Seventh, Biggie!" Biggie squeezed Mr. Dinkles tight, crying with joy as he was handed his trophy.

The elderly Troll waited until the applause had died down, a patient smile on her face. "And perhaps the most important of all, last but certainly not least, _Poppy and Branch!_ "

Branch, who had been watching contentedly, straightened. "Wait. _What_?"

Poppy rolled her eyes at him. "You can't get away with saving the lives of the whole village unnoticed, Branch. Come on!" She pulled him to his feet and over to the stage, where they got their trophies. Then she pulled him down the edge of the stage, sitting down, dangling their legs over the edge as the Snack Pack formed an arc-shaped line behind them.

The young queen smiled, looking out at all the Trolls in the crowd. She glanced at Branch's face—slightly anxious and intimidated—and smiled teasingly. "What are you afraid of?" she asked gently as the crowd gave them a five-minute standing ovation. "That they'll hate us because we're bad rulers? All of us?" She quickly added on the last three words because his face portrayed that she was only making his fears worse. She gestured to the Snack Pack behind them. "It's like they're the kings and queens now!" she said. "And now all the lights are shining for them, for our little group, and the rest of the Trolls here, I . . ." She trailed off, then sprung to her feet.

"YOU GUYS, I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH YOU THIS DECADE! I WOULDN'T TRADE IT FOR THE WORLD!" she screamed, then backward-stage-dived into them.

Poppy grinned when she saw the terrified look on Branch's face at her fall. She pointed up at him. "AND TAKE A MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THE WAY BRANCH IS LOOKING AT ME RIGHT NOW!"

"Agh! Poppy!" he said, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. Poppy giggled as the crowd cheered.

"WHO WANTS TO HAVE THE SLOW DANCE SECTION OF THE PARTY NOW?!" she yelled, just to embarrass him further.

"WE DO!" they yelled. So Poppy let them set her upright again, then ran to the edge of the stage and grabbed Branch's hand, pulling him down and over to the side of the stage opposite to the way they'd come in. They waited till the other Trolls had partnered up, then Poppy signaled the DJ. A slow song began to play, and she and Branch spun to the music.

Seeing him in a more romantic setting than she had for the rest of the night reminded her—the present she'd had for him! She took control of their dancing, spinning them around and around and straight out the gate to the fence, right over to the base of a nearby tree.

"Poppy, what are you—?" he asked when they stopped.

She didn't let go of his hands. "Branch, I need to you promise me something."

"Promise you what?"

"That you'll stay with me forever." As soon as he opened his mouth, she went on. "But if you just can't . . . if we can't stay together . . . then promise me . . ." She paused as a tear slid down her face, then reached up into her hair and pulled out her scrapbook.

This was the scrapbook that she'd scrapbooked their whole adventure in. She had finally completed it, and she was giving it to Branch. "Promise me that even if you can't find happiness with me, Branch, you'll find it with someone. Promise me that . . . that if one day, you have children, you'll show them this scrapbook, and tell them all about me and our adventure, okay? Promise me that you'll tell them how much I already love them, just as much as I love you."

"Your . . . your scrapbook?" Branch asked breathily. "You're giving it away?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm giving it to _you_. Branch, you're worth it.

He smiled at her. "Thank you so much, Poppy. But I doubt I'll need it."

"Why?"

"On the other hand . . ." Branch trailed off, clearly thinking hard, then resumed. "Maybe I will need it."

Poppy smiled as he carefully stored it in his hair. "Now, come on! Let's get back to the party!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the party (where the Trolls appeared to already be over slow dancing, but that was okay, because they were Trolls with short attention spans). She led him right up the stairs and onto the now-empty stage, instantly drawing all the Trolls' attention.

She was being loud and non-emotional now, but her words were still meaningful ones. "Tonight we are the king and the queen, Branch! We are here to celebrate this decade, which means we are here to celebrate your rise to this position! And this decade, I had fun with everyone, but I had the most fun with you! We changed so much, we helped the village so much, and it was the most amazing time in my life! One day, Branch! One day, we will go down in history!" With that last shout, she grabbed his vest and pressed their lips together.

And as fireworks exploded, both in their minds and for the party, there couldn't have been a sweeter ending to the decade.

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 **Okay** , **that's the end of the two-part story! Tell me what you think in the reviews! :)**


	4. The Story Of Us

**This one's based off "The Story Of Us" by Taylor Swift, which of course I don't own, right along with Trolls. The next two I still have to type up from paper, so technically this is the last "prewritten" chapter, but they should feature Wisteria and Cliff. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this story in the meantime! Please read and review (but no flames). Thanks! :)**

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There wasn't much that Queen Poppy of Troll Village hated.

After all, she was a Troll—and not _just_ a Troll; the _queen_ of them. So she was pretty fun-loving most of the time.

But if she had to pick something she hated, it would be formal business dinners.

No, wait. Formal business dinners that every Troll in the village would be at, including your ex, whom you still hadn't gotten over.

Unfortunately for her, that was exactly what she had to do tonight.

 _Wonderful._

He'd be proud of her sarcasm. Too bad she'd lost him.

 _Look on the bright side_ , she told herself, searching through the situation to find a bright side. After all, there was _always_ a bright side. Hmm . . . what was the bright side here?

Well, if she wasn't too busy being distracted by Branch's presence, she'd have new allies to rule the kingdom with. Once upon a time her blue Troll had helped her, but her father (apparently he was doubtful about her ruling skills, she thought angrily) had arranged these four snobby Trolls to help her now that he was gone.

She _strongly disliked_ them, too.

And . . .

No. She wouldn't allow herself to go there. She and Branch were through, and she wasn't going to put getting him back before the well-being of her kingdom.

So she took one last glance in the mirror, sighing, before heading off to the big dining hall pod. It was always dark in there and the only light was a candlelit chandelier and candles on the long, fancy table.

Poppy arrived in her sparkly purple dress and sat down. Her place was not at the head of the table, but rather right in the middle. The Trolls who would become part of her Royal Council would sit on either side of her.

Trolls began arriving, and the waiters came to take everyone's orders. Branch was nowhere in sight. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as bad as she'd thought?

She turned to the Troll on her right. She could barely make out his colors in the dark, but she could tell his hair was lighter than his skin. "Hi, I'm Queen Poppy. What's your name?"

"Hello, Queen Poppy," he said in a very . . . _overly dignified_ voice. "My name is Balsam."

She forced a smile and nodded. "Well, Balsam, welcome to my Royal Council. Who is this gentle-Troll behind you?"

"I am Birch," he said, the same snobby, over-dignified tone to his voice.

"Welcome to the Council, Birch." She clasped her hands together in her lap and turned to her left. "Hello. You are . . ?"

This Troll was so snobby, he looked disgustedly down at her, then moved away from her. "Personal space, please," he said.

"I—what?" Poppy looked down and saw she was only a little off-center on her chair. She moved over to the middle. "Is that any better?"

"It will have to do," he said, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "My name is Barley."

"Welcome to the Royal Council, Barley," she said, keeping her tone and her smile warm and friendly. "And the gentle-Troll beside you is . . ?"

"This is Basil," Barley said before the Troll even had a chance to open his mouth.

Poppy frowned a little, but quickly realized what she was doing and replaced it with a smile. "Hi, Basil, and welcome to my Royal Council. I'm sure you will all be very beneficial to the kingdom. Should we begin to discuss the first issue on tonight's list?"

"Of course," Barley said, taking out a scroll with loopy, illegible script on it. Yeesh, was _everything_ these guys did fancy? "Our first issue is the agriculture in this area. After the Bergens' assault on Troll Village, farmers are beginning to find that the soil isn't as fruitful as it once was. What do you propose we do, council-Trolls and Queen Poppy?"

Just as Balsam began to speak, a flash of royal blue caught Poppy's eye. _Branch?_ She tuned out her snobby new council-Troll and scanned the room for her ex. She knew she'd seen him—so where was he?

"Queen Poppy? Your thoughts?"

"What? Oh, sorry," she said, her cheeks heating up with a blush they hopefully couldn't see in the dark. She mentally reprimanded herself. She was here for her queenly responsibilities, not to swoon over someone she'd broken up with. _Time to get over him._ "How about we sample the dirt in other parts of the village to see if it would be a better fit for farming? If it is, we can rearrange the village landscape to fit the new farming grounds," she suggested, hoping it would cover up the fact that she hadn't been listening.

"I suppose that could work," Birch said doubtfully. "But what if . . ."

Poppy didn't hear the rest of it, because she'd seen another flash of blue. This time she caught it, and her eyes followed Branch as he walked around the edge of the long table, looking for his place. He stopped across from Balsam—so pretty much right across from her—and sat down.

She studied his posture. He looked uncomfortable and uncertain as he sat down, and she wondered if it was because of the uncertainty that it was really his seat, the crowded room, the formality of it all, or the fact that the room was only lit by burning fire. Or maybe a combination of the four.

And then he glanced up at her, and she instantly looked down at her plate, blushing harder. She hoped he couldn't see it in the dim candlelight, either. She chanced a glance back up at him and saw he was now looking down at the tablecloth, the telltale purplish tinge on his cheeks.

Yikes. At least she was naturally pink.

"Queen Poppy, would you at least _try_ to pay attention?" came Barley's snobby voice.

"Oh! Yes, what were we discussing?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Rearranging the landscape of the village where most Trolls have lived over half their life will require some getting used to. Who, do you propose, will provide all the Trolls with maps to this rearranged village?"

Poppy bit her tongue to keep from biting back at his snarky attitude. "Harper's an amazing artist. I'm sure if we gave her the layout, she could provide the village with maps."

He frowned, clearly unimpressed. "If that's the best you can do."

"Oh, like you can do any better," she said before she could stop herself. "Tell me, oh wise one, if you've got such good ideas, why aren't we hearing them?"

"Well, I—I—" he sputtered, as though he'd never met a lady who said things like that to him.

"That's what I thought. Well, until you think of something good, you can just zip it," Poppy said firmly. She glanced over at Branch, a small smile forming, before she could think what she was doing. It was practically habit; whenever she told someone off like he would've, she looked to him for approval. And it went the other way, too—whenever he was kind to someone or acted like a normal Troll in a social situation, he'd look to her for approval.

Now she did it without thinking, then blushed again and looked back down at her plate, suddenly fascinated with the floral pattern on the porcelain. "So, uh, what was the next issue on the list?" she asked her council-Trolls, still looking down.

"Next, we have the issue of housing," Birch said. "Some of the pods were destroyed in the assault, so there are a couple of homeless families."

Poppy looked up at him, shaking her head in confusion. "No, we solved that months ago," she said, remembering that meeting. She'd been kind of carefree and wanted to ignore the problems, because she was used to her dad solving the official stuff like this. But Branch had grabbed her shoulders and steered her right into her pod and sat her down and gotten out a clipboard. She'd initially protested, trying to distract him ("But I didn't get to show you Cooper's cupcake shop yet!" "But we need to go get you a hug time bracelet!" "But you need to give me a tour of your bunker!"). Branch hadn't listened to her. He'd sat there and talked out the village's problems with her until they were solved. That was when she'd known he'd make her a wonderful king.

Or at least, she'd thought so.

But apparently not. He'd left her to deal with these guys; who knew what he might leave the kingdom to deal with one day?

That was what she told herself when she was mad or sad, but she still wanted him back.

"Do you not pay attention to your responsibilities as queen?" Balsam said disapprovingly. "The structure and placing of those new pods were horrible. They were all destroyed in last week's storm. Now the Trolls who lived in them have to move back in with the Trolls who housed them last time, some of whom have families."

Poppy was surprised. "What? Horrible structure and placing? But . . ." _But Branch helped me._ Branch was great at that stuff. Surely that couldn't be true.

"Queen Poppy, we're only telling you the facts. And the facts are, your solution didn't work out and you need to fix it. What do you propose?"

"Well . . ." Poppy chanced looking up and shot Branch a glare. This was his fault.

But then he looked at her, and her face turned bright red, no longer angry. She spun to face Barley so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. "Well, I think that we should investigate the destroyed pods to see what was wrong with them, then improve that problem."

Barley scooted away from her in disgust. "Absolutely, Queen Poppy," he said under her intense stare.

"Good, then. I . . . I, um . . ." She trailed off because now she noticed something new. There was a Troll sitting next to Branch, across from Birch.

More specifically, a female Troll.

Poppy frowned without meaning to. This Troll had electric pink skin, even brighter than her own, and electric blue hair. She was smiling at Branch, leaning in close to him. He kept shooting her glances that Poppy couldn't read.

Oh, wow.

Had Branch found a new girlfriend?

 _You shouldn't be so surprised,_ she told herself firmly. It had been five months since they'd broken up, and it had never been a secret how many girls had crushes on him. But he had always been uncomfortable with all the attention, and she'd never really thought . . . she'd never really thought . . .

She'd always just thought she would always have him to herself.

 _You shouldn't be so selfish, either,_ she told herself. It was her fault she was so unprepared for this, and it was her fault they'd broken up. Time to face the facts.

It was just that . . . she still remembered when she used to be by his side, always talking about the future, how he'd be king and her husband and they'd have children and she'd get to tell their children how they fell in love and how they made peace with the Bergens. But that fantasy was over. She would eventually marry someone and have children, but it would not be Branch. (And she would rid herself of these council-Trolls because she'd have a king, which would be great.)

Still, now she knew nothing about Branch's life. She was not a part of it except for being queen, which counted as pretty much nothing when they couldn't meet eyes for a split second without their faces melting off. If she had known more, though, she might've been prepared for the girlfriend . . .

What was that Troll's name? It started with a C, she knew. Um . . . Cassie? No. Callie? That wasn't quite right either. It was something like . . . something like . . . "Calla!"

"Queen Poppy, your behavior tonight is very ill-natured," Barley reprimanded her. "How you expect to run a kingdom, I have _no_ idea."

At the same time, Branch's girlfriend—Calla—looked up, surprised. "Queen Poppy?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and worried. At the sound of it, some of Poppy's frustration and jealousy toward the girl dissipated. She sounded like a really nice girl.

"Sorry, okay?" Poppy said irritatedly to Barley. He needed to just . . . back off. She was juggling a lot tonight, and she didn't need his judgment. To Calla, she gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Calla, I didn't mean to call your name. You can go back to . . . well, whatever it was you were doing."

Calla gave a small, shy nod, and started arranging the utensils on the table like a nervous habit. "Thanks."

Poppy nodded at her, then continued with her council-Trolls. "So, what was the next issue?"

"The real issue here is your unwillingness to participate in the matters of your kingdom," Birch said.

"You are the queen, and you're ignoring your kingdom," Balsam agreed.

"And for what? To swoon over that blue Troll in the _outdoorsy_ green vest?" Barley accused disgustedly. He said "outdoorsy" like a bad word.

Poppy gasped and slapped a hand over his mouth. "He might _hear_ you!" she hissed.

"Ugh," Barley said, pushing her hand away.

Poppy heard what she'd said and pulled away from him. "Um, I mean . . . well, it's your fault that I'm so distracted. Why did we have to invite the whole village to a 'formal business dinner' anyway? It's for _business_! It should just be the five of us!"

"I'd hate to have to say that you're such a bad queen, you cannot focus on your responsibilities because of one Troll that happens to be in the room. Especially to have to say it in front of your father. So I hope you'll get to work, because if you don't, I'll have to," threatened Balsam.

Poppy just raised an eyebrow. "So, what? You're blackmailing me? Don't you have a personal life? Oh, right, I forgot. You clearly have no idea what to do around a lady," she sassed, pretty proud of herself.

It was Birch's turn to speak. "We were trained to act the way ladies like," he said. "You're just ill-mannered and unorthodox."

"Unorthodox? Why, thank you, Birch." She paused. "You know, I think I'm calling this whole thing off. Go home. Relax, and maybe you'll learn to be polite in the process. And get off of my council. I don't _need_ a council, anyway. It's more of a liability than an asset."

"Darling, you cannot just dismiss us or cancel the dinner," Barley tried, looking worried under that layer of sickly sweetness. "Your father ordered the council and the dinner."

"Yeah, my father. The former king. And as you keep reminding me, I'm the current queen. I need to do what's best for my kingdom. And what's best for my kingdom is me working, which will only happen if you get out of here. If _everyone_ gets out of here."

"No, we—" stared Birch, but Poppy just climbed up onto the table.

"Hey, everyone! I know you're probably waiting for your food, and you might not like this very much, so I'm apologizing in advance. But I'm going to cancel tonight's dinner. You can all go home, relax, do whatever you want. Again, I'm so sorry that I'm canceling it this late."

A collection of mixed responses came from the Trolls at the table. Some were disapproving, but most of them were more like "meh," or "yay!" She was glad about that.

She kept on standing on the table until everyone had left. She watched Calla exchange a few words with Branch, then Calla left the pod, leaving 0nly her and Branch in the dimly-lit pod.

He looked up at her and walked around the long table to her seat. "Um, hi, Poppy," he said awkwardly.

She blushed, but this time she didn't look away. Instead she sat down, sitting on the table instead of standing on it, so she'd be more at his level. "Hi, Branch."

"That was a good idea, dismissing those council-Trolls," he complimented her. "They weren't treating you right."

Poppy's face grew even warmer. "You, um, heard us?" _You heard what Barley said about you?_

A smirk appeared on his face. "Poppy, I will never, ever regret all those times I said you're the loudest Troll I know."

She grinned sheepishly. "Can't deny it." Pause. "Um, is your girlfriend okay with you talking to me?"

He looked really confused. "My girlfriend?"

She nodded, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "You know. Calla?"

He shook his head. "Who's Calla?"

" _Cal-la._ With pink skin and blue hair? She was sitting next to you the whole time? You talked with her a little before she left? Nothing?"

He still looked kind of confused. "You mean that girl you told to back off?"

"I did not! All I said was her name!"

"Same difference. It worked. Point is, she's not my girlfriend."

"Yes, she is! She kept . . . _looking_ at you."

"Yeah, which is why I was so happy when you said her name. Because when you said 'go back to whatever you were doing,' she started playing with her utensils in case you were watching."

Poppy was still hesitant.

"Come on, Poppy, don't tell me you've forgotten how many crazy girls have crushes on me."

"Girls who have crushes on you are NOT crazy!" Poppy defended before she even knew what she was doing.

"Okay, but the ones who try to stalk me and randomly touch me are." His smirk told her he knew exactly what she'd meant.

"I still think she's your girlfriend," Poppy said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"You don't think I'd know who my own girlfriend is?"

"You seem pretty confused about it right now."

Branch dropped his smirk and sighed. "I'm sorry, Poppy. It was really stupid of me to—to _avoid_ you so much. I shouldn't have let fear overwhelm me like that."

Poppy's arms slowly fell to her sides and she shook her head. "Branch . . . it was my fault. You deserved to be scared—you still do. I should have helped you, but I just kept on talking and talking and talking and talking and I TALK TOO MUCH!"

"Wasn't I the one who was supposed to help you _not_ talk so much?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, right, you never knew about that. Your dad told me to help you not talk so much. Said he'd give us his blessing to get married if I learned how to console you in every sense of the term."

"Wait . . . does that mean you _asked_ for his blessing?" Poppy asked. Had she really broken up with him when they were _that_ close to being married, just like she'd always wanted?

Branch bit his lip, thinking. After a moment, he said, "Not exactly. I was kind of ranting about you—not in a bad way, but still ranting—and about how you talk so much, especially about some things I tend to be . . . shy . . . about hearing, and he said that if I could console you and help you not talk so much, he'd give us his blessing to get married. So I didn't really _ask_ , but I did kind of start it."

"Oh. Well, the point is, I shouldn't have ignored how upset you were. I treated the whole thing like a joke! I'm sorry, Branch."

"It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry too."

Poppy shook her head. In perfect unison, the two said, "I should have been there for you."

They shot each other surprised glances, then found themselves unable to break the gaze. Branch took a step toward Poppy that neither of them really noticed. Poppy's right arm slowly moved to his shoulder, feeling the solidity of his frame.

She realized what she was doing and that he hadn't made any advancement toward her (or he had, but just barely). She snapped out of her trance and pulled back her hand, making a show of swishing her skirts just for somewhere for both her hands and eyes to go. "Um, is there something else you wanted?" she asked when she gained the courage to look back up at him.

"Oh, um . . ." Branch faltered. "I just . . . wanted you . . . wanted you to know I was sorry."

The last bit was clearly a save from something else he'd wanted to say, but Poppy let it slip. She got it. Why did her own courage have to fail her at this moment, too?

Instead, she nodded. "I hope you know I'm sorry, too."

He nodded back and turned away to leave. Poppy watched him go with a sinking feeling in her heart. Here he was, talking to her for the first time in five months, and she was just letting him leave?

"Wai—" she started, hopping off the table to catch him—but she stopped when she heard something on the table go _clunk_ behind her. She must've knocked something over, she thought as she turned around.

It was worse than just something.

It was a candle.

A burning candle.

Oh no.

The tablecloth had already caught fire. Poppy turned back around and was endlessly grateful to see that Branch hadn't left yet. She caught him by the wrist, ignoring his protests as well as the warmth of his skin on hers. "Branch! The tablecloth is on fire!"

He took a second to take it in, but once he had, Poppy could practically see the plan formulating in his head. "Okay, is there a fire extinguisher or fire blanket in here?"

Poppy shook her head, watching the fire spread. "No."

"Are you sure?!"

"Yes, I'm sure, Branch! You made me memorize all the buildings with safety equipment in them _and_ what the safety equipment was, remember?"

"Okay, okay, if you're sure! Um . . . where's the nearest water source?"

"The kitchen, probably! I'll go get some water!" Poppy called, wasting no time in running to the kitchen. She burst through the heavy doors and immediately spotted a tray that held lots of pitchers full of icy water.

 _Perfect._

She grabbed the tray and, holding it carefully so the water didn't spill, ran back into the dining room. Branch was salvaging everything he could from the table, and Poppy pushed down the panic that came from seeing him so close to the fire.

"I got the water! Here!" she cried, setting the tray on the floor. She grabbed a pitcher of water and dumped it on the fire.

"Quick, before it spreads!" Branch cried, handing her another pitcher of water, which she promptly poured over the tablecloth at the same time that he poured his.

Again and again, until they ran out of water—and, luckily, fire to counter it. The ex-couple breathed a mutual sigh of relief as the last flame fizzled out.

But it was a relief that didn't last long. The fire instantly came back, roaring and racing toward a couple of ingredients that a chef had left on the table when they'd left.

Poppy's eyes widened, seeing what the majority of the ingredients was. " _Branch_ ," she said, grabbing his vest and shaking it in panic. "Isn't flour explosive?"

His eyes widened too, watching the flames race toward the fire. "Yes! We have to get out of here NOW!" In an instant, he'd swept her into his arms and they were both exiting the pod.

Poppy was too scared to worry about how protectively he held her, but once they were on the ground and he turned back to the pod, lit up with flames, she remembered why this wasn't going to happen.

Or . . .

She tore her gaze away from the burning pod, which was already attracting the attention of other Trolls, and clasped her arms around his neck, bringing Branch's gaze down to her.

"Poppy?" he asked cautiously. "What are you—mmph!"

She'd pressed her lips to his before he could finish. She held it out, but when he didn't reciprocate, she pulled back, looking up at him. She chewed her lip, nervous, as he stared back at her. "I'm sorry. Maybe that was too much? I just thought—"

She stopped talking as soon as she felt his lips against hers once more. She snaked her hands up to the back of his head, pulling him closer, closer . . . until they had to part, if only for the lack of air.

Looked like they were back together after all.

Couldn't be a better way to end this story.

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 **Yes, I did my research and flour IS explosive! And sorry if this story's a little rushed. Please read and review! :)**


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